Navigation is a Virtue
by Kadi219
Summary: [Raydor/Flynn] When Sharon gives Andy the perfect motivation to hurry home, he learns that it's navigation, rather than patience, that might be his best sought virtue. Written for the "Sharon Raydor is Alive" fanworks fest.


**Navigation is a Virtue**

 **By Kadi  
Rated: T**

 **Disclaimer:** Not my sandbox, and not my toys, but I don't feel inclined to give them back this time.

 **A/N:** My contribution to the "Fuck You. Sharon Raydor is alive. Fanworks Fest" that was started by my longtime fandom friend **sarken**. Thank you for this idea, lady!

I'd like to thank everyone who asks when I'm going to post again – I haven't given up. I'm in a work-imposed fanfic hiatus currently, but I had to step out to contribute to this.

Unfortunately we do not get paid for this, so I'm sure there are mistakes that were missed during the beta process. Please feel free to hold on to any you find. I would hate for them to feel lost or orphaned.

 **Note:** This fic was inspired by actual events. Shout out to my besties and partners in crime. There are no better travel partners than Chelle and **kate04us**. While our need was not as great as Andy's, and our barrier was an LAFD engine instead of a beamer, we were convinced that we were going to starve to death thanks to our rental car's navigation system. Enjoy!

* * *

The party was never going to end. Andy was sure that Christmas and New Years, maybe even St. Patrick's Day, would come and go, and he would still be stuck at this party. He was feeling a little like that time a couple of years ago when he had gotten trapped at Provenza's house during the World Series. Game 3 had gone 18 innings, and before it was over Andy started to wonder if he would ever see the outside world again.

This moment wasn't quite that dire, but it was inching closer. Lieutenant Peter Hernandez had retired. He and Andy had come up through the Academy together. They had ended up working out of the same precinct in Patrol for a few years, and later, they had both gone into detective work. Andy had ended up in Robbery Homicide while Hernandez had gone to Vice. The two men had continued to work together off and on over the years; there had been weddings and births, kids in little league, and any number of other events that had kept their paths crossing. When the invitation for the retirement party had come, it wasn't a huge stretch for Andy to accept it; after all, Hernandez had attended his.

It had only been a couple of years since Andy had made the decision to trade his badge in for his pension and the time to travel and be with his family. That choice had come, not because he was ill, but he had started to understand that there was more to his life than _dirtbags_ and lives that were cut tragically too short. Now he could be with his kids, his grandkids, and of course, his wife.

Sharon had followed him into retirement not long after. The opportunity to travel, especially after the two weeks they spent in Europe for their honeymoon, was too strong a temptation for her to ignore. For years she had given of herself, for her children, her community, and the police force. She had been happy to do so, but now she was content to live wholly for herself. For Sharon, the decision had come after Rusty had moved away for law school. To be honest, finally putting an end to the Stroh case had lifted a weight from her shoulders. Her career was still fulfilling, but she wanted more, so she had reached out and grasped it.

Finding themselves as both newlyweds and empty nesters had been quite an enjoyable experience. They had found that their choices now had opened up, and were only dependent on what _they_ wanted to do. The possibility of enjoying art, or going out to trendy new restaurants was no longer dependent on _family_ plans, or the constraints of having to close another case. They could do whatever they wanted.

Andy was thinking about that as he stood on the deck, enjoying the salty ocean breeze. He checked his watch; Sharon would be home already. She had texted him over an hour ago to let him know that her plane had landed. She was just returning from a weeklong girls' trip with her sister Helen, Emily, and a couple of her nieces. They had gone to her sister's time-share in Mexico, where they had spent the week shopping, hiking, and lounging on the beach. He and Sharon had spent time apart before, but he had missed her, and was looking forward to having her home.

As though his thoughts had summoned her, Andy felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He smiled when he saw that it was another text from Sharon. " _How is the party?_ "

" _The usual_ ," he texted back. " _I'm trying to think of some reason to get out of here early, without looking like a total asshole._ "

" _Well_ …" Andy's brows went up when the rest of her response was longer in arriving. He almost choked on his club soda when he read the text. " _I'm sorry that you're not having a good time. I've had a glass of wine, and just poured a second. I'm leaving the unpacking for tomorrow and considering a long soak in the tub instead. It's really too bad I'm here all alone._ "

Before he could reply, and really his mind was already conjuring any number of images to go with her statement, the second part of the message arrived. " _You know how I feel after a long flight. I could use some help loosening a few… muscles_."

It didn't take more than a minute for Andy to decide how he was going to respond, or what he was going to do. He could already picture her reclining in the tub, a glass of wine in hand, lips curved into a crooked smile, while she thumbed out the text, knowing full well what it was going to do to him. Knowing his wife as he did, and while their relationship had only turned romantic in the last five years, he had known that woman for decades. She was devious. She was downright wicked. God almighty he loved her for it, but he knew with every fiber of his being, and the longing of a man who had not seen or held his lover in a week, Sharon was already in that tub. Suddenly, looking like an asshole didn't matter at all, and was the furthest thing from his mind.

" _I'll be home in forty-five, do NOT_ _go to bed_ ," he texted back.

Only a few seconds passed before his phone vibrated with her response. She sent a laughing emoji. " _We'll see_."

Andy almost groaned out loud. Yes, she was a wicked, wicked woman, his wife. Knowing now that the clock was ticking, he quickly worked his way back through the party. He said his goodbyes to Hernandez's wife and daughter, who had thrown the party, and then he found Peter. After giving the man his best, again, Andy made his way out to his car. On a good day he could make the drive from this section of Malibu to Santa Monica in about twenty minutes, but with traffic on the PCH, he knew that could be pushing it a bit. From Santa Monica it was anyone's guess how long it would take him to get to Los Feliz. It could be another half an hour, or twice that if the fates really wanted to punish him. Making it in the forty-five minutes he had given himself was going to be a challenge, but he was feeling motivated.

Luckily, traffic seemed to be flowing well, despite the construction zones on the highway and the time of evening. There were the usual slowdowns, but nothing out of the ordinary. Which was good, as his mind kept drifting. He was thinking about the fact that Sharon would be content to soak for a while. The wine and the heat of the water would make her drowsy. After a week away from her own bed, and the comforts of their home, she would take her time pampering herself. He knew the water would be scented, and his jaw clenched when his mind conjured the light scent of gardenia, just the way it would smell as it lingered on her skin.

The tips of his fingers itched. After her bath she would rub lotion onto her arms and legs, but she would ask him to do her back, and he could already feel the smooth warmth of her skin as his fingers glided across it. His hands tightened around the steering wheel. Andy suppressed the urge to go faster than the posted speed limit.

A traffic alert from his car's navigation system warned of an accident on the I-10, and so to avoid that he decided to cut through Beverly Hills. While he was stopped at the next light, Andy checked the traffic map and noticed there was serious congestion at all of the typical turn-offs that would take him through Santa Monica. He sighed as he checked the time and did a mental calculation of how long each of these would take. He was already looking at an hour for his drive; he didn't want to make it any longer.

Andy knew that if he took too long Sharon would exact her own form of punishment for having been left waiting. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He only had a couple of choices. His phone chimed, and the text was displayed on his car's touch screen. He glanced at it and groaned again. " _Fifteen minutes, Mister, and then I make my own fun_."

At the next light, Andy pulled into the left turning lane. West Channel wasn't his favorite option, but it looked like his _best_ option. He would have to work his way over to Santa Monica BLVD, but the further from the PCH he got, the lighter the traffic should be… he hoped.

Since it was a long light he took the opportunity to reach for his phone. He quickly tapped out a response, all while trying not to imagine all the ways she could, and would, amuse herself for the evening. " _I'm in Santa Monica. You do the math. You can get started if you like, babe, but I intend to finish._ "

" _Promises, promises…_ "

Andy rolled his eyes at her response and dropped his phone back into the cup holder in the center console with his key fob. He leaned his head back against the seat rest and tapped the fingers of his left hand against the steering wheel while he waited or the light to change. He was two cars back, and mentally ticked off the time while he waited for the light to change. When it did, he sat forward again, and continued to wait.

The lead car didn't move. Andy's jaw clenched. "Son of a bitch." There was no reason for the little silver beamer not to make the turn onto West Channel, except for one very annoying fact. This particular light also serviced Chautauqua Blvd., and with the traffic that was turning right from the other street, the car was stuck until it cleared. That meant that everyone behind them was also stuck waiting until they could make the turn. Andy cursed his choice again. Why the hell had he not just waited until he got to Entrada? This intersection was his least favorite for a reason.

He was going to be sitting there in a year, remembering the time his wife was relaxed and soaking in a tub of hot, fragrant water, and unable to blame her for finding someone who didn't get stranded at the world's longest traffic signal to attend to her needs. He was pretty sure she would have a good case for abandonment; it was hardly her fault that he was dumb enough to try and take that road at this hour, on a Saturday night. Except for the part where he had taken the first available left because that same wife was teasing him.

Andy might be dumb enough to get stranded in traffic, but he wasn't stupid. There was no way in hell that he would ever use that defense against his wife.

"Come on, dammit!" He tossed his hand in the air, unable to hold back his frustration when the light turned green again, and still they did not move. There was a small part of him that was tempted to put a call in to Traffic Division, and see if anyone he knew was working the weekend shift. Maybe they could send someone down to direct traffic. Andy glanced in his rearview mirror. The line of cars behind him was starting to grow. This light was exactly why this section of town was such a nightmare during rush hour. Except it wasn't exactly rush hour at the moment. The only rush involved was his longing to get home and put his hands on every inch of his wife's very relaxed—"Are you kidding me right now?" He waved his hand at the windshield when the light turned red again.

He was going to be sitting at that light all damn night.

Several minutes, and another light cycle later, Andy was ready to risk a ticket for crossing the solid white line that separated his lane from the through traffic at the intersection and pull back out onto the PCH to take the next light. Just as he was getting ready to flip his blinker over to indicate that intention, the light turned green again. He held his breath as the little silver beamer shot forward and executed a sharp left that almost made him cringe. The driver had obviously found a break in the traffic turning _on_ to the PCH and taken it. He exhaled as the car in front of him continued moving, headed in the same direction he was. "Finally," he muttered, and merged into the middle lane as soon as he could.

The tension that had built in his shoulders wasn't gone until he made the cutover a few blocks later, and picked up speed on his way toward the northeast side of the city. Andy glanced at the clock and sighed. He hadn't heard from Sharon again. That meant that she was either leaving him alone while he was driving, or she had done as promised, and had gotten started without him. There was a very good chance it was a combination of the two, and the closer he got toward home, the later the hour grew; there was a very good chance that he was going to find her asleep. Not that he could really blame her. She had been traveling all day. No, he would blame that damn light.

It took another twenty-five minutes or more for Andy to get home. By the time he had parked, ridden the elevator up to the eleventh floor, and let himself into the Condo, he was a good half an hour, and probably more, over his allotted arrival time. He wasn't surprised to find the Condo silent and dark. Sharon had left a single lamp on in the entryway, and after dropping his keys and hanging up his jacket, Andy made sure the door was locked behind him before he shut off the light and started down the hall.

Their bedroom door had been left cracked open. Andy stood in the hall for just a moment and listened for any sound on the other side. He didn't hear anything, and his shoulders slumped just a bit when he eased the door open and found the room mostly dark. Sharon had left the lamp on his side of the bed on, at it's lowest setting, and the faint glow illuminated the room just enough that he would be able to find his way across the room and get changed without tripping over anything, or more importantly, without waking her up.

Andy shook his head. Her slight form was curled around a pillow, and after his eyes adjusted to the faint lighting in the room, he could see the even rise and fall of each breath. He sighed as he walked to the closet. Andy took his time toeing out of his shoes and, and tried to make as little noise as possible as he went through his usual nightly routine.

She was never going to let him hear the end of it, and would probably take a lot of joy in describing her evening in great detail. When Andy finally lay down in bed, he let himself imagine all the different ways he could dismantle that godforsaken light. He was going to enjoy pulling it apart, piece-by-piece, and there might even be a blowtorch involved.

Movement beside him had him glancing over. He wasn't surprised when Sharon shifted toward him. She was a heat seeker. It could be well over 102 degrees outside and she would be freezing. When one of her legs curled around his, Andy rolled on to his side and reached out to pull her closer.

His brows shot upward when his hand encountered bare skin. The corners of his mouth twitched and started to curve upward. His hand ghosted across the smooth skin of her side, hardly touching her at all until it reached her hip. "Hi, babe."

"If this is your idea of finishing," she drawled, "we really need to have a discussion about following through on set expectations."

"You abandon me for a week to go play with the ladies, and this is how you say hello? Maybe we do need to have a discussion," he lifted his head and rested it in his other hand. The lamp was still on, and he could just make out the curve of that wicked little smirk of hers. "I think we need to talk about your priorities."

"Hm." She rolled onto her back and let the sheet slip, just enough, to let his eyes see what his hand had already figured out. She might have gotten started without him, but that hadn't stopped her from waiting for him to join her. "No," she said at length, "this is how I say hello, but if that isn't sufficient…"

"You know," he tugged her back toward him, "I think we should give this some pretty careful consideration. So I'm going to think about it, and I'll let you know in a little while…"

She laughed when he moved over her. He was rather predictable and easy to please, but then, she knew that now that he was home, he was hardly going to rush in making his assessment of the situation. While she had enjoyed getting away for some female bonding time, she had missed him. They were both comfortable with traveling together, and apart. She had gone to visit each of her children with and without him, and Andy had done the same a couple of times with trips to see his son. That didn't mean that she didn't think of him while she was away, and she knew that the same was true for him.

Sharon settled back and relaxed into the mattress and pillows beneath her while she was properly welcomed home. Her hands slid down to tug at his t-shirt, and as her fingers danced across warm skin, her brows lifted in askance. "I expected you half an hour ago. You took the intersection at West Channel again didn't you?"

Andy's head dropped to her shoulder with a groan. "That goddamn light…"

She hooked her leg around his thigh and laughed at his frustration. He always took that light, and he always regretted it. It was a good thing she loved him, because he was going to be complaining about it for a week. Sharon supposed she would just have to find ways of shutting him up, and there was no better time to get started than the present.

~Fin.


End file.
